


see me in your wildest dreams

by SapphireQueen



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternative Universe - The 1930's, F/F, atonement au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireQueen/pseuds/SapphireQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter has been living with the Martinelli's for some time, always having a soft spot for the eldest daughter. Having unrequited feelings for Angie becomes so much for her that she let's all of her feelings out in a letter, which she accidentally later sends. <br/>-<br/>Atonement AU. <br/>-<br/>Written while hearing:<br/>"Wildest Dreams" by Taylor Swift<br/>The Atonement Soundtrack</p>
            </blockquote>





	see me in your wildest dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I am cartinelli trash and wanted to see how it would play out. Comments are appreciated ♥ 
> 
> Peggy's dress: http://www.poshgirlvintage.com/vintage-dresses-c-1/1930s-deco-red-velvet-long-evening-gowndress-p-735.html  
> Angie's dress: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/fd/43/63/fd4363e942ad0c3b01a5c0a980ca2734.jpg

She stands in front of the door, callous, worrying. How could she had been so foolish? Sending the wrong letter to Angie as the real one was left unattended on her desk. She could run, could tell the Martinelli family that she fell ill, that she couldn’t make it to the dinner. Coward! What a coward’s move that would be. She fixes the ruffles of her red dress and takes a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door. She hears stiletto heels clacking on the other side of the door and a decision was made, she knocks on the door, waiting. The door clicks open and there Angie stood, radiating and beautiful in a gorgeous green silk gown that seemed to be painted on her, graceful paint strokes on her delicate skin. Peggy forgets words for a moment, caught off guard by the mere radiance of her, which shatters like broken glass when she sees the note gripped in her hands.

“Ït was a mistake,” Peggy says, and she immediately regrets the words as they leave her red lipped mouth. She watches Angie looking at her, light eyes focusing on her and Peggy suddenly feels too vulnerable, too weak to move. To defend her actions. So she does the only thing she could now, she continues speaking, words falling like streams down a brook. “That one… that one wasn’t meant to be read. Private. I put the wrong note in the envelope and send it to you, I--”

“Danny read it,” Angie tells her, it’s the first sentence she’s spoken since opening the door and Peggy finds herself completely still.

“I am so sorry,”Peggy quickly retaliates, but Angie turns her back and enters the house. She looks over her shoulder, as if asking Peggy to follow her, which she does.

The sound of their heels echo across the empty hallway, a big, vibrating sound clacking against the silencing feeling of judgement and guilt. Angie opens the door of the almost abandoned family-- the Martinelli’s didn’t have much use for it since their new study in the top floor-- and turns on the lamp near the desk. Peggy closes the door behind her.

“Peg,”Angie starts, chewing on her bottom lip, thin and pink and Peggy fists her hands in order to suppress the urge to lean forward and just tell her everything. She was so terrified, the letter had been graphic, lewd even, she blames her copy of _Lady Charlotte’s Lover_ she bought over at Prague. “I… this has always been here hasn’t it?” Peggy doesn’t speak, instead she walks forward as Angie steps back, sealing herself more in the darkness, the comforting shadows of the once beloved library now becoming a costume, a masque for her to hide. Peggy doesn’t think very clearly as Angie looks at her, both awe and wonder mixed in her light eyes, a slight glint of the watered corners of her eyes. “It’s always been there and then this morning, by the fountain, I was so angry at you.”

 

* * *

 

The incident had been one supremely silly, now that she thinks back on it. The sun was ravenous, scorching them all in their Italian heat. Angie, coming overly excited by her to tell her about her newest play, as Lady MacBeth in Shakespeare's Scottish play. Peggy had been by the garden, collecting a few roses to place around the house, since it was one of the few duties she did as a guest and worker at the Martinelli’s home. “ _I got it_!”She had said, and she remembers the way she had ran from the house to the fountain and had climbed on it. “ _I got it, I am the Mad King’s wife!_ ” She had said, skirt flowing as she spun around the edge of the fountain. Peggy smiles at her as she puts the roses down and walks towards her, the pants she had worn now dirty and a bit washed out.

 _“So, are we going to have to suffer through you memorizing your lines over the house now?_ ”She had said, unaware of the storm that was about to hit. she had passed a hand through her brown hair as Angie looked at her, thin mouth in a line.

“ _It should be a privilege to you see me act,_ ” Angie says, her voice spiking a bit now. “ _You don’t talk to me for three years and now you think you can just waltz in here and pretend as if nothing had ever happened?”_

Peggy had stood still, unaware of how to answer. On their last three years of university, she and Angie had grown distant. Angie just seemed to have her theater friends now, all more extravagant and exotic than Peggy herself, not to mention the pervasive thoughts that had now consumed her anytime she had thought off or talked to Angie. Urges of wanting to hold her hand and kiss her cheek, all things that wouldn’t be accepted, not by Angie, not by her family, Peggy hardly knew if to herself. And she had taken what seemed like the best course and had retracted from her, cutting all ties.

But there she stood, standing still and looking at Angie staring at her, the sun making her light clothing and hair seem freeing, giving her an angelic luminescence. “ _Well_?

“ _I--_ ” Peggy had opened her mouth, but no words had come out. Furious, Angie had tried to climb down from the fountain, but had fallen into it. Peggy immediately jumped in, trying to save her. Beneath the water, Peggy touched her, her arms, encircling around Angie, similar to many times she had imagined and carried her up to the surface. When she had stood up, Angie in her arms, Peggy made herself burn this memory into her brain. Angie, beautiful angel with droplets of water on her skin, like precious freckles adorning her. The light dress she had on clung to her, her brassiere with a flower clasp in the middle visible through the thin layer and her breath had caught in her throat.

Angie had quickly climbed out of her arms, straightening what she could of her dress and angrily walking away, leaving Peggy behind, staring at the walk she left behind, her small hips strutting with a beautiful sway.

She had nearly ran to the house she shared with her father down by the cottage, a small empty thing within the Martinelli territory. She had drawn herself a warm bath and slid of her still wet clothes, climbing in to try to let the water calm her body, her slowly heating body as the image of Angie in her arms played on repeat in her head like flickering lights.

After the bath, she had gotten up and dressed in her bathrobe. She had been invited to the big dinner they were hosting to welcome back Angie’s brother from Paris, since he was studying with fellows like a Hemingway and a Fitzgerald, names Peggy had heard off, but had paid no attention to.  She stands in front of her typewriter and stares at the black sheet of paper, mocking her in her indecision.

Without thinking, she had sat down and had tried, multiple times, to compose a letter of apology for Angie; for university, for the years of neglect, for the pang of guilt and hurt that it had caused her, for wanting her. None of them work, all plain and mediocre to her eyes, none worthy for Angie. She takes the last one and balls it up, throwing in the trashcan.

She thinks of Angie’s slender legs, so light and graceful, so begging to be touched. She closes her eyes and images what it would be like to kiss her, as she did a lot lying on her bed, staring up at her dark ceiling. Peggy had never questioned her tastes, she has known from a young age that she found attractive both men and women, but Angie… Angie was such a dear friend. And it had suddenly terrified her to think about her like that, she didn’t want to lose her. Absentmindedly, she starts typing:

_Angie, in my dreams, I finally know the taste of your pink lips, if your hair smells like vanilla since that is the scent you most like. I dream of taking you to my bed and kissing you, lavishing you in adorning kisses from the top of your head to your mouth, to your chin, until I come to the small valley between your breasts and place a kiss there that sends shivers down your spine. To continue my path until I reach to the be between your legs, worshipping you as you deserved to be. Kissing your cunt, hearing you moan out my name as if it is the only word you remember._

Peggy laughs as she finishes, something completely erotic in the mere fact of writing it, let alone allowing herself to somehow voice her thoughts. She sighs and takes that page out, folding it and setting it beside the typewriter, a keepsake for herself and she adjusts new paper to write a real one.

_Angie, I am sorry for the pain that I have caused you. It was never my intention. I miss being your friend, but I had to stop because of personal complications. I get lightheaded in your presence, a bit foolish. My tongue sags and I forget how to speak. I am sorry if this discomforts you, but I couldn’t keep it any longer. If you wish to ignore me after this, it is fine. I’m willing to accept that._

More satisfied with this one, she sets it down and stands up, looking for her best dress since she was approaching dinner time. She grabs the red dress that had belonged to her mother, it fits her perfectly like a glove, a slit on the left side of her dress, filling it with curves and smoothing it out with her hands. She takes one of the letters and puts it on an envelope, walking out the door.

 

* * *

 

“Angie,”Peggy says, and she’s suddenly back, back to the darkened library, to Angie in the corner, drawing her in like a siren. “Angie I am so sorry, I had another note, I had another note for you, less… vulgar.”

She hears Angie snort out a laugh. “What did it say?” She says, putting her gaze on her. “On that other note.”

“More apologetic, explaining why I had become distant… other things, more coherent.” Peggy says, in a nervous panic and Angie brings a hand closer to her, drying a tear. “Why are you crying?”

"Don't you know?" Angie says, a whisper so soft, nearly unreachable in the space between them.

"Yes," Peggy breathes, taking a brave step near her, she watches Angie look at her through glazed eyes, her lips parting open, nearly... _inviting_. "Yes, I know."

There's a small sound of breaths being hitched and the wet sound of lips upon lips as Peggy takes Angie's chin on her fingers, and lifts her face up, kissing her. She tastes how sunlight feels on a cool spring day, she tastes the way music hears, light and freeing.

Angie kisses her back softly,  with a tenderness she never knew possible. "Peggy," She says on a brief second where their lips separated and she feels the word being hushed over Peggy's mouth. "Peggy, God, I've always wanted you, you should have--" Angie breathes, her hands desperately touching Peggy anywhere she can, running them up her back, wrapping her arms Peggy's slightly broader shoulders. "You should have told me something earlier, I missed you so much. I've wanted you for so long."

"Angie," Peggy nearly moans, as she lifts Angie to the bookcase. "God, is this real?"

"Do I feel real, English?" Angie grins, the contrast of light and dark in the library making her look captivating,  an enchanting succubus wanting to devour her. She runs a hand through Peggy's hair, pushing her closer for another kiss. It's earth shattering, the realization that dawns on her as Angie pushes her tongue between Peggy's lips, a small moan escaping both of them as their mouths open against one another, a sense of feeling and belonging encompassing them.

"So real," Peggy moans, lowering her head to Angie's neck, soft flesh smelling of rose scented perfume. She pushes the slit of Angie's green dress aside and lifts her by her thigh, her legs parting a bit, allowing Peggy to be as close as possible. She holds both legs up, making Angie look obscene, delicious.

Peggy stares at her, Angie's hooded eyes and parted lips enticing, her gown flowing and her chest heaving. Angie takes her thin spaghetti straps and slides them down her shoulders, revealing her breath and Peggy is caught dumbstruck, forgetting how to breath for a second. Without another word, she leans down, taking Angie's small breasts in her hand and gently massaging it, taking her pink nipple and putting it in her mouth, the small she emits from Angie's throat worth any single agony she has to endure in her life.

"Peggy," Angie breathes, making Angie look up at Angie's rose cheeks, eyes glossed with lust and want. "Come up here," She says, signaling her up with her finger and Peggy obeys willingly, Angie kisses her back, her hands in Peggy's long V neck, cupping her breasts, perfectly filling her hands.

Peggy is drunk with Angie, her smell, her feel, her taste. She wants more, between her parted legs, she slides a hand down her panties, already so wet. She looks up at Angie now, who moved her hands to the bookshelf to keep her hoisted up. Peggy licks her lips. "I love you," Peggy whispers close to her ear as her fingers push against Angie's center, she feels her shudder against her.

"I love you," Angie repeats, the realness in her voice trembling as Peggy kisses her, her fingers drawing circles around Angie's clit.

"Angela," They hear and it's like a glass shattering in an empty room. Peggy knows that voice belongs to Daniel, Angie's cousin and she believes she isn't capable of hate but if Margaret Carter could hate, she would hate Daniel Martinelli. Angie clears her throat. Peggy knows that a cue to stop. She hears footsteps and she assumes Daniel has left.

“I’m so--”

“Don’t apologize,” Angie says quickly, hiking her straps up. Peggy separates herself from Angie, straightening her dress as well. “We have a dinner to get to.” Angie takes her hand in hers and gives Peggy a light kiss. “After that, we can retreat to my room for a sleepover, to catch up.” She says, winking at Peggy in a soft smile that makes her giggle.

They sit by the table, one next to the other, their hands sometimes intertwining one against the other, a flutter to her stomach as she cannot believe how a small little mistake unraveled to be the best thing in her life.


End file.
